❛𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄...❜ | 𝐍𝐨.𝟑

Chapter 15- Where The Hell Am I?

Lauren's POV:
"Mmm..." god, my head hurts...the pounding feeling in my mind comes from the inside, similarities from the feeling of a hanger over and a migraine colliding into one to create the ear-ringing pain exhibited within my heads chambers. My vision blurs increasingly into a blackened sea of smudged light as the view before me is unclear, at best, but I can tell one thing for damn certain...I'm in the boot of a car.

A moving car...one that rattles up and down London's very own famous cobblestones, the slippery wet glide of rain water on its surface sure to be added in a well-known sense of England's treacherous weather. The twisty and turny knot tied tightly within my diaphragm accelerates in discomfort, my throat being lined with an uncontrollable slick sickly sensation, which has a danger of spreading out of my mouth's nauseous exit.

Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up...

A groggy feeling pulsating around my person, I attempt to level my body upwards, finding my anatomy to forcefully crash back down onto the roughly materialised fabric of the car boot my carcass has been tumbled into, caused by the bandages wrapped securely around my wrists, held firmly behind my back, as well as the ones just above my ankles, more so creeping up the space of my strong calves. "How terrific..." I exhale in exhaustion, laying on my back for a few solid, silent moments, collecting all the seconds of calming emptiness I possibly can...

Breathe...you're okay...just lay there, and breathe...

Keeping calm in stressful situations is my talent. In fact, it's my job, having a sub feared for my next actions is dangerously similar to this unfortunate circumstance...except this time, I'm the one on the spanking bench. I'm the one bounded on the 'X' cross, and I'm the one handcuffed to the bed...and my domme is the one behind the wheel.

I have to regulate my breathing...keep my vision focused...and listen to my inner domme...the one inside me.

"You're fine, Lauren. Everything is okay, everything is okay. You're not dead yet. You have a chance to save yourself." for a long time, it was just me. No fiancée, no kids, even no parents. I had no one, and I survived. My mind casts back to that lonely, yet controlled time...the time where I could defeat any battle by myself, control my own and any other soul, protect myself no matter the outcome. Despite the fact I don't have to, I still can. At this moment in time, I can. I can.

Rolling around on my back, I try my best to capture a glance of a clue, any trademark which could give me and indication of who the twisted soul is that dared kidnap the woman who will soon romantically, ethically and soulfully belong to one of London's best Detective Chief Inspectors, the woman who will stop at nothing to vindicate my capture.

But there's nothing.

No certain, pinpoint names instantly spring to mind, and I begin to think my kidnapper is possibly of a lesser significance to my life, such as a sub who easily became attached, a fantasy that we share some kind of unbreakable bond cast between their minds bubble...perhaps one of the unruly domme's who disgustingly mistreated Emma in the past, or some fool my future wife put behind bars once upon a time and are now seeking a revenge of the same relevance by taking me away from her years later. Nevertheless, it won't fuel or dull my spirit to escape this current horrendous reality, and arrive home before worries are caused and minds are drawn to my disappearance.

At least, I hope so...

The mere thought of Emma running rancid, pacing the entire house time and time again as she waits for her domme to return home at last, after many worrying, unending hours of conflicting emotions, and deliver the much promised punishment to bend her over and teach her a lesson, stirs a confidence within me, one that tells me, I have to get out of here...one way or another.

❀❀❀

The rumbling stopped. No voices, no unfamiliar sounds, and no footsteps whatsoever. The rumbling just stopped. A sound leaving my rested ears enough to awaken me up, back into the world, my thoughts that the current occurrence was simply a terrifying dream being disproven.

No rumbling...the engine. It's stopped. Which can only mean one thing...we've arrived.

Now I hear them - the sounds. Vaguely similar to ones I repeatedly hear everyday without fail, vaguely not. The car door opening - similar. When I hear the loud click of the door flying outwards, the pitter patter of rain water restarting against the roof of the vehicle catches my attention, as well as the angered, annoyed huff from the driver themselves. It seems as though the rain is a disappointment to them...which can only mea it's an advantage to me.

Footsteps - again, similar. Feet clapping against the wet ground, lapping against the minuscules of water collected on the earthy rock below them, loud and unstable. Louder...and louder...and louder.

Then, nothing. When the familiar sound of those identifiable, echoing disruptions halt dead in their tracks, and that's when I realise, I only have one question now...

Who the hell are you?

Looks like you're about to find out, Laur...

Behind me, two large and hefty extremities lift the entirety of the car boot into the open air. The first thing I feel is masses of tiny, minor rain drops hitting my back, an action that's unbothered to my state. My body faces away from the outside world, curled up in a ball of hope that this was all a joke, a simple prank pulled by one of my friends as an unruly surprise hen night, a wedding present, or maybe even a hidden plot of revenge that simply went too far...

But no.

The face I see is one I wouldn't consider unfamiliar, nor an acquaintance, definitely not a friend. No...not my friend, not by far. The human I come face-to-face with as my body rolls over onto its other side, turning away from the hidden area of unforthcoming and to lock eyes on the person drenched in rain, hair splashed with the salty water, as well as clothes absorbing the moist matter.

I know one thing for certain...this person wasn't the one I expected to have the ability, the strength, the undying need to lug my body into an open space and take it far, far away from home for a life-ending deadly attack, an attack which could end my life as I know it... "Hi, Lauren."

I open my mouth, my dry, dry mouth, not a sense of moisture about it. A breath escapes my  now thick-with-fear throat, and here come the words... "Hi, Connor."

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Thank you for reading.

The vendetta Connor has against Lauren springs all the way back to season one, when the two romantic characters were nothing but mere passer-bys. How has his hate and distrust sprouted since then...?